Page 4 of Claiming My Mountain Man

I nod.

“Why don’t you set up the fold out bed on the far side of yours. Throw the new sheets and blankets in the wash so everything is ready when the two of you decide to hit the sack.”

Turning toward the alcove with my bed, I rethink the open concept I chose when building the cabin. Not much I can do about that right now. Maybe use one of the blankets for a curtain to give her privacy.

Gerdie’s right. I can’t turn Juni away. I’m the best person to teach her safety on this mountain. How to navigate the dangers and how to protect herself. I’ll also make sure the local fuckboys and players know who they’ll be dealing with if they give her any trouble. I’ll protect her just like I promised her dad.

And I’ll keep my own damn hands to myself as I do it.

CHAPTER 3

Juni

Well, that could have gone worse. After I finish finding places for all the supplies we bought, I glance over at Gerdie who’s humming to herself as she pulls her homemade biscuits from the oven. My lentils, sautéed vegetables, mushrooms and braised tofu have been simmering in a rich vegetable broth for about thirty minutes. She’s seared a steak for her and Micha to go with the stew.

The cabin is open concept and basic. Kitchen area with sink, stove, refrigerator, table and four chairs. Extended off the kitchen is a washer and dryer, the bathroom with shower and a closet with built in dresser. The master bed faces the main door with built in lamps and small side tables on each side. Smiling I remember how he always liked to read before bed. Something I may have picked up from him.

On the left wall there are two windows bracketing a stone fireplace. A couch and one chair face the fire.

It’s been a little over an hour and already everything is rearranged and the area optimized for safety and comfort.

Micha has my bed put together and the sheets are in the dryer. He places my cot against the wall with the fireplace. It doesn’t leave a lot of room to maneuver, but I’ll get more heat. All his furniture looks new.

The whole afternoon reminds me a little of when Micha still came to visit. Mom and I would prepare the meal while he and Dad always worked on some project. Whether it was shoveling, tending the yard, or building something, they worked as if they could read each other’s minds and just knew what to do next.

Dad said they were best friends from the minute Micha was assigned to the ranger team Dad was on. Micha was mostly a lone wolf—that’s how he got Wolf as his military call sign—never asked for or needed help. But he was always there if someone else was in trouble. He moved with grace and subtlety. Dad said the enemy never knew he was there until it was too late.

He and Dad always had some silent communication going on. It was like they looked at each other and knew chopping wood was next, or the plumbing needed to be checked. They’d work for hours in the yard together without a word yet moved as though the work was choreographed like a flowing dance.

Mom said it was their ranger training. Military teams are trained to view situations through the same tactical lens. Intense drilling moves made it so they could depend on their teammate to be where they needed to be and recognize what needed to be done.

Dad said Micha always had an affinity for detail and often saw what others missed. His perception saved more than one life when he’d spot unnatural disturbances in ground cover that would turn out to be land mines or other traps.

Apparently, Micha was an only child like I am. Dad said he never really talked about his family. Once he said his father had been killed on the mountain and then his mom left. Hell, he rarely talked period when he came to visit us.

Except when I was little. I remember reaching for him and he’d lift me. Falling and he’d be there to soothe me. Wanting to play and he’d sit on the floor and listen as I fabricated detailed stories for my wolf stuffy. When I found out the wolf I loved so much was a gift from Micha, I started calling it our baby. As I grew the stories became me as mommy and Micha as daddy wolf. He wouldn’t say much, but he would sit with me for hours.

By the time I was eight, he started taking me to the woods and teaching me how to respect nature, the animals, the land, the trees. When I was about nine, we were hiking and I said something like when I was old enough, I wanted to marry him.

He’d smiled and said I deserved someone better. After that the visits became farther apart, then less and less when I was in high school. They pretty much stopped during my college years. He seemed to only come when it was just Mom and Dad at home.

He thought I didn’t notice. But I did. And I’d made a new plan. Because I’ve loved Micha since I was six.

After devouring his steak, he tries some of the stew. “That’s pretty good. Tastes kind of meaty.”

“It’s the mushrooms and root vegetables.” I smile and ask even though I know the answer. “Ready to go vegetarian?”

He shakes his head. “No. But I respect your choices and don’t expect you to cook for me. I’ll cook my own meat and help with whatever vegetable concoction you want to make. Will that work for you?”

“Yes.”

Carrying his plate to the sink, he starts washing his dishes.

“Leave them,” Gerdie says. “I’ll help her with clean up before I leave.”

He nods and grabs his pack. “I need to do a trail patrol. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Gerdie and I watch him go. “Is he really okay with this?” I ask my new friend.